Gravitation Fan Fiction ❯ The Opposite of Gravity ❯ Homecoming ( Chapter 1 )

Author's Note: Hmmm…where to begin? Oh...this story has been sitting in the back of my computer and my mind, collecting "dust," and I thought it was time to actually start finishing it. *sigh* This actually began as a sequel to the anime, but it's grown so many twists and turns that I doubt it could be considered that anymore. However, it does take place after the end of the series. Well, I won't babble anymore. Read and enjoy!

Warnings: shounen-ai (come on…it's Gravitation), fluffiness (at times), somewhat bad use of the Japanese language, "weird" pairings, etc.

Track One: Homecoming

It was dark when the solitary figure finally made it home to the aerial building in downtown Tokyo, although the vague furnishings of his non-claustrophobic apartment rarely seemed that to him anymore, and despite being gone so long, he truly dreaded entering the door. Yuki Eiri had never been one for commitment nor was he one to waste flattering words on a foolish girl -or boy in this case- but he felt far beyond unprepared for what lay on the other side of the uncongenial world portal that somehow transported him to a realm that became something other than what he had been used to several months back. It was too easy to admit defeat and say he was scared, Eiri wasn't afraid of anything dead or alive, but the prospect of how much everything would actually mean to him when he turned the handle flooded his mind like a bad memory.

He'd had too many of those since his "relationship" with the kawaii and also extremely genki vocalist of the ever-popular band Bad Luck had fallen into play that haphazardly awkward day when he had found his unfinished lyrics blowing away in the wind, and that had been the reason for his entire disappearance from Japan. It had been easy to slip away from his normal everyday routine -drinking, whether it be too much coffee or not enough beer, smoking, always typing away at his laptop in hopes to procure a better novel than before- but there had been that one thing which constantly gave him precedence over his past and the tragic outcome of coming too close to someone he thought he could trust with his life. Obviously, he had been wrong, and he had never wanted to confront that hidden fear again -too ashamed to admit he had been driven into himself from such a malevolent betrayal- but when the clumsily lithe singer had inadvertently jumped in front of his that rainy day he had tried to convince himself he would have been better off ending his uneventful and rather pointless life, things had started to change.

"If you're trying to commit suicide…find another -"

The thought unintentionally made Eiri smile, his brain drowning in the facade of hot pink hair and liquid indigo eyes that only began to describe the group soloist, and he had to catch himself before the lust driven deep within his heart caused him to rip the door off its hinges in his haste to have that warm body pressed against his and that sweet smell encircling him; it was a likely possibility seeing as how the perky youth tended to fracture walls rather than use the entrance like a normal person. He had missed the familiarity of everything while he had been in New York, confronting his buried problems, but above all else, although he probably would never be able to admit it aloud, no matter how hard he tried, he had missed his undeniably adorable yet sometimes annoying lover.

Sighing with a low breath as he tried to gather his failing courage, Eiri once again reached forward to quietly push the already opened door aside, toeing his shoes off before entering -as was the custom- and sliding his portable suitcase against the wall while he slipped inside. He braced himself instantly, unconsciously expecting to be pelted by a thin form sporting a light strawberry scent and repeatedly loud screams of 'Yuki, Yuki, Yuki!!' that usually damaged his eardrums, but not one sound ensued. Glancing at the clock ticking meticulously on the wall answered as to why.

It was early morning, almost three.

Habitually, he inspected the apartment for any signs of damage but found none, and when his vision fell upon the couch, he, too, found that to be empty. Eiri really hadn't been expecting much of a welcome, not since he had informed Bad Luck's manager of the situation concerning their star attraction for a specific concert that had been scheduled only a few days back -he had promptly been rushed from America to Japan K-style- and it wasn't surprising to find no one waiting at home for him. Somewhere in his cluttered and fatigued mind, Eiri suspected the hyperactive nineteen-year- old was staying with his best friend, silent but strong-willed and resilient Nakano Hiroshi, serious guitarist of their pop band, but somehow he was hurt. He never thought ahead, it seemed, and all he had wanted to do was return as fast as he could to be with the lover he had left all alone. It wasn't fair to anyone, especially to the singer, that a dead sensei who had "sold" him for ten dollars to a bunch of punks and a certain blonde haired N-G Records owner had held his attention for the better part of the past week and a half. Still fresh in his mind, the conversation eluded him.

"Where are you going, Eiri-san?" There was a pause and the novelist found himself stopping, a strange smile of sarcastic falling onto his face as a soft breeze blew against his skin.

"I'm going home." It had been a simple answer and the truth; he'd missed it too much for all the wrong reasons.

"Home? To...to him...to Shindou-san?" A tone of sadness filled his older brother-in-law's voice, and Eiri turned to stare at him, all emotion disappearing from his somber visage, including from his normally cold lemon- lime eyes.

"Hai...to Shuichi-"

Shuichi…

Shuichi wasn't here, and he had been the only thing on his mind the entire flight home from the New York City air terminal. Eiri wanted to beg forgiveness, though he knew the words would never come; Eiri wanted to make love, though his lover might decline; Eiri wanted Shuichi all for himself, though he had to share him with the entire world.

The writer felt a snicker of amusement catching in his throat as he quietly padded towards his bedroom, his coat finding its way off of his slim body and onto the floor, and he shook his head. He sounded like a fool, thinking nonsense about things that only deserved an unmemorable place in the books he detested to write but enjoyed to criticize. Completely forgetting to undress and change into something more comfortable, Eiri folded himself onto the welcoming mattress, an exhausted sigh escaping his lips -he had not realized he had been that tired- and concealed entirely in the dark, he began wandering off into a somewhat pleasant light sleep until something beside him shifted, sniffled, and snuggled closer to him, a nose digging into the slope of his neck. Slender hands moved up to wrap around his waist and a thin leg slid between his thighs, pressing Eiri tighter against the warm body rhythmically breathing beside him.

"Yuki..." A muffled tenor sobbed softly a moment later, nearly tearing the remainder of Eiri's heart from his chest. Shuichi was home, he had been sleeping in his bed -their bed in all actuality- and from the subdued noises now emitting from his throat, he still was, dreams making the thin limbs around him tense, but despite the darkness and the obviously unwanted tautness of the genki vocalist in his arms, Eiri saw his petite lover perfectly -the mass of pink fluff considered hair, bottomless cerulean eyes beneath closed smoothed lids, flawlessly tanned skin. Eiri saw perfection and loved it.

"Shuichi," he whispered, his breath fanning across the curved cheek exposed to him, and he felt the youth stir but not awaken; he was still dreaming.

"Yuki-" There was another sniffle and it was followed by a gasp of air. "I love you…don't leave me." Sighing, Eiri pressed himself closer, fingers deftly trailing up Shuichi's clothed stomach before he leaned in, capturing the mumbling lips with his own, sending a shiver down his spine. He hadn't intentionally meant to hurt him with the pretenses of cold affection and unanswerable questions about his past that even Eiri was afraid to figure out, but he had and now that everything was finally taken care of, he wanted to make it up to the innocent although hentai-minded boy.

Eiri nibbled gently against the plush mouth he was currently sampling and murmured a silent approval against them, the hinted taste of strawberry lip-gloss and minty toothpaste flowing over his tongue. He'd missed this -the closeness, the feel of Shuichi against him- and the brief interlude they had shared in the abandoned apartment building in New York when the singer had shoved his finished lyrics in his face to read for wanted acceptance and had fleetingly kissed him hadn't been enough. Eiri was going to get his share before anything else happened and that exact moment in time seemed to be the best place to do it. Pushing harder against him, the blonde haired author swept his tongue across Shuichi's bottom lip, enticing a faint whimper out of him before pressing further into the warm cavern that tasted of nothing but his lover. A feeble murmur swept through Eiri as Shuichi moved against him in his waking state, causing him to shudder slightly, and the arms looped around his hips tightened drastically, eyes slowly fluttering open to stare back at him with haze filtering through the blue orbs of liquid fire.

"N-nani?" Shuichi began, his mouth opening to protest, but Eiri cut him off with an agonizingly slow kiss that left his words hanging in mid- sentence. The response was instant, and the singer clung to him, mercilessly twining his seeking tongue with his lover's, a whimper rising up into his throat at the savagery of their joined lips. When they eventually broke apart, Eiri upwardly nuzzled the underside of Shuichi's jaw until he became level with his ear, and he nipped on his lobe with practiced finesse.

"Baka," he murmured, riling a shiver out of the lithe boy against him before he began to shake more drastically as that simple word wrapped around his brain and squeezed it tightly. Shuichi's heart threatened to pound out of his chest, he wouldn't have been able to stop it even if he'd tried, and he couldn't control the silent wail beginning to build in his chest as he clung to the lanky frame of the writer he had fallen mercilessly in love with. It had been only a few days since he'd felt, touched, or heard anything from the older man, but it had seemed an eternity to Shuichi, and he was going to cry. He didn't care if the other thought him weak -he'd missed his insults- and it didn't even cross his mind to tell him anything -he knew his talking was unwanted- but his Yuki.

His Yuki had returned to him.

"Naa…naa...Yuki-" He was silenced by a slender finger against his mouth, and the tenderness of the action had tears welling up and slipping down his cheeks. Shuichi bit his lip in an attempt to stifle the sobs escaping him, but he grew even more unsuccessful as he felt Eiri's breath against his skin while he traced a wet path with his tongue down his jaw and over the prominent dip to lap at the glistening drops sliding from his clouded cerulean eyes.

"No more, Shuichi. No more," he whispered, rubbing his nose against his before tilting his head down and joining their lips in another kiss filled with more passion and frenzy. The thin vocalist gripped his waist tightly, the fingertips of his hands sliding over the silk encased skin beneath his shirt, and he moaned unintelligible sounds of appreciation even as he continued to cry, his tears warm between their close faces. Eiri shifted position, rolling them over so that his body was pressing the smaller one into the softness of the mattress, and he instantly began to make his own exploration, reacquainting himself with the familiar territory of his lover's flawless form as Shuichi's legs spread a little wider to accommodate Eiri's full weight on him. They arched together, trying to touch as much of the other as possible in one movement, and the pink haired singer sighed, his weeping subsiding as Eiri tore his mouth away and sent it on a trail down the graceful neck he liked so much. His teeth nipped roughly and lips soothed with stimulating strokes, Shuichi's entire body, aside from his hands, which clutched at his clothing tightly, going limp beneath him.

"Yuki…Yuki...I...Yuki..." He couldn't get past saying his name, and had it been any other time, Eiri would have been surprised. Shuichi didn't know how to be quiet, even in times of necessity, but now the only thing falling from his lips was the one word he had somehow reserved for himself. "Yuki- "

"Shh," he calmed, nestling his free hands into thick clumps of hot pink to tilt Shuichi's head up. "Be quiet…I want-" Eiri cut himself off, trying to avoid the questioning look in the youth's gaze, but as the other's smooth eyebrows rose in wonder and partial amazement, the writer knew that his lover was aware of the things he could never bring himself to admit vocally albeit in his once barricaded heart.

Shuichi knew he had missed him.

"Yuki..." The younger boy bit his lip, almost nervously, and Eiri couldn't resist the small smile forming on his face as he stared down at him, their noses inches apart.

"What is it?" He couldn't avoid the tenderness, not after what he had put the singer through, and he'd wanted this so badly while he'd been away that he could remember sitting beside the window in the rented hotel rooms, tasting strawberry in his mouth and smelling it in the air as he thought of the pop star. Their attraction had been sudden, but so powerful that it had left him with no time to step back and observe the reactions or consequences of it. Eiri had once told the press -with their prying cameras and annoying questions- that living with Shuichi was a good experience to learn from, that they had been doing nothing wrong just because they were both men and sleeping together, and despite it having torn at his chest to see the stunned look his lover had given him as he'd spoken those words, he couldn't make himself take them back, no matter how much he had wanted to. At first, it had seemed like the logical answer, his automatic protection system had kicked into defense at not wanting to admit the truth, but afterwards, he'd realized that it had been a mistake, and meeting Shuichi hadn't become some incident to reflect back on and nod his head at. He'd become trapped within his timid and innocent embrace and didn't want to escape the world they'd created.

There was a small sniffle and painfully sparkling lavender-blue peered up at him.

"Hold me...please…I want to believe that this isn't a dream, that you're really here. Are you?" Any other time, he would have pushed him away -smacked him, insulted him- but with a reluctant sigh, he moved back onto his side, bringing Shuichi with him with a gentle tug.

"Hai, I'm really here. This isn't a dream…Shuichi-chan." In the dark it was hard to see, but he knew that the youth's eyes had tripled in size, but before be could react further, Eiri tapped him softly on the top of his head. "Now go to sleep. I'm tired."

"Naa, Yuki, why do you have to be so mean?" his teasing voice asked even as warm breath slid across the skin of Eiri's neck while Shuichi snuggled up to him. Everything was finally beginning to fall back into place as it had before, and for once, Eiri was happy.

* * *

Calm echoes of sneaker-clad feet hitting the linoleum ricocheted throughout NG-Records in the mid-morning of the day, and the door to the third studio room swung open to reveal a panting youth clad in brown khakis and a vest with a plain t-shirt beneath it, a neon orange backpack slung across his chest and one shoulder. Four familiar faces turned their heads in his general direction before returning to what they had been doing, completely at ease with the fact that he was more than an hour late, and a moment later, a brightly polished six-chambered revolver found its way against his temple, already loaded and cocked. Vivid indigo-violet eyes dulled considerable as they turned to stare at the blonde haired man holding him hostage, and the boy grimaced, disliking the dour look on his manager's face.

"You're late," he rasped out in thick Japanese heavily accented with English, and Shuichi smiled nervously, edging slowly away from the muzzle of the gun.

"G-gomen nasai, K-san! There was-"

"Yuki Eiri returned from New York last night," a calm voice finished for him, and the singer let out a sigh of relief as their American supervisor lowered the pistol and slid it reluctantly into the holster clinging to his ribs when his best friend interjected the presiding predicament. There was a heavy thump proceeding, but no one seemed to notice their producer had passed out -most likely from stress- while standing up except for Bad Luck's extremely talented keyboardist, Fujisaki Suguru, who was quickly fanning him with a thin book of music sheet paper. Shuichi spun on his heels, throwing his arms open, ready to embrace his companion as was their old custom, but he was greeted with a raised palm that halted him instead. Gray cobalt eyes smiled gently at him from beneath crimson colored bangs, and the other youth oddly blushed at the glance he was being given.

"Ohayo, Hiro-kun!" he squealed loudly, turning around in a full circle to prance around him in an almost Shuichi-style ceremonial dance. "How did you know? How did you know?" Nakano Hiroshi merely nodded at him.

"You only get that excited when he has done something to make you happy," he replied easily, bracing a graceful hand on the neck of his guitar while moving to stand beside a now revived Sakano-san and the other youth who appeared to be partially depressed. "So...are we going to practice now?" Shuichi gave him a thumb's-up sign and shed his satchel before wrapping slim fingers around the base of the microphone, his mouth open in imitation of the singing that would soon follow.

"Warm up first," K instructed, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall in a form of relaxation, a complete opposite to the other man nervously pacing back and forth, mumbling about the consequences of not being able to reach deadlines on time. Bad Luck's second CD -prefacing their originally contracted third CD by NG-Records owner, Seguchi Tohma- was set to be released that month as soon as Shuichi had finished creating new lyrics for their last song, and so far, like many times before, he had yet to write a single word.

"Okay," Suguru immediately replied in his limited English, earning an approving nod from their manager as he tuned up the synthesizer for the specific song they were going to practice on, although each of them knew it by heart by now from performing it several times. It had been an interesting and almost traumatic week for the members of the rising-in- popularity band as their lead singer had been in a slump the entirety his lover had been away in the United States, and everyone was glad to be getting back on schedule. Hiro followed suit, running fingers across the strings of his instrument, testing a few chords here and there while Shuichi stood immensely still, raising a concerned look from their heart attack prone producer.

"Shindou-kun, you're not ill are you?! Oh, no, what are we going to do? I have to report to Seguchi-sama before the end of the day and inform him of our progress and-and-" His eyes rolled backwards and he fainted again, landing in a heap of Sakano-san bones at Shuichi's feet.

"Is anything wrong, Shu-chan?" Hiro asked, earning another blush as well as a blank stare from his friend before he shook his head and bound into action once again, although he remained unmoving.

"Anou...let's sing now!" he proclaimed, cueing Suguru with a point of his finger before scowling seriously and concentrating on the flow of music that the keyboardist and guitarist created in combined ease. The simple notes of 'Glaring Dream' flooded the studio, lifting Shuichi's spirits despite the sadness of the intended song. "Nigiyaka na hitogomi o tokeru tsubuyaki ga...ashi moto ni chirabatta omoide nijimaseru-"

The pink-haired soloist froze in mid-phrase when the door suddenly creaked open, revealing a lanky body clad in loose jeans and a partially tight-fitting shirt, the infamous Nittle Grasper logo spread across its pale background, and a lump somehow formed into his throat, refusing to let him continue. Sapphire blue eyes sparkled with longevity as well as something deeper than the content expression radiating on the handsome face, and moss-green tinted brown hair hanging over a red headband glistened with sheen under the artificial light, giving the man an ethereal appearance that no one else in the known world could recreate. Clutched tightly in his arms was a lump of fur with a scarlet ribbon tied around its neck, long ears flopped over towards the ground -Kumagoro-san.

Shuichi found it nearly impossible to move as his idol from the days he had been a little boy sprang into the room, a child-like demeanor overpowering the intimidating presence he had held minutes before.

"Shuichi, Na No Da! Ohayo gozaimasu!" he cried rapidly, nearly squeezing the life from the younger youth as he tackled him to the ground and hugged him. "Are you singing, Shuichi? Ryuichi and Kumagoro-san want to sing with you, Na No!" Instantly, he was on his feet, grabbing the microphone in his left hand while grasping his small stuffed bunny in the other. As soon as his mouth opened, an aura of supremacy flooded over his countenance, changing his outlook completely. The same words flowed from him with more ease than Shuichi had ever possessed, sounding even more mystical without the accompaniment of Suguru's and Hiro's instruments. The vocalist gazed up in amazement, worshipping the resonance pounding through his throbbing ears.

This was a god.

"Anou-" Ryuichi suddenly stopped in the middle of a word, turning to gape down at him with a gentle smile on his solemn face.

"That's how you shine," he replied softly, reminding him of the lesson he had given him weeks ago before releasing the microphone and scrambling over to K to embrace him in an exceedingly excited hug. Shuichi sat on the ground a moment longer, reluctant to climb to his feet, and he sighed, his shoulders slumping while he moved towards the exit of the room after he stood.

"Shindou-san, where are you going? We have to-" Hiro lifted his hand, stopping Suguru from rushing after the obviously depressed singer before shaking his head in a silent representation of his own thoughts.

Shuichi needed some time to himself.

* * *

Uesugi Tatsuha frustratedly kicked at the flat tire on his motorcycle once more before standing and shoving his hands into the pockets of the leather jacket draped over him in order to examine his surroundings. The sky appeared dismal, clouds heavy and black with intended precipitation, and his instincts told him that it was going to rain. Somehow, his always reliable and trustworthy vehicle had broken down, and the sixteen-year-old was now stranded on a countryside road with little traffic between his hometown of Kyoto and his original destination of Tokyo. His elder brother had called him earlier that morning, rousing him from a dream-filled sleep haunted by images of one Sakuma Ryuichi -his obsession for years- and had point blankly threatened to destroy all of his Nittle Grasper merchandise if he didn't get to his apartment in less time that it took him to fix a cup of hot coffee, and Tatsuha wouldn't put it past Eiri to uphold any of his promises. In order to keep his most sacred possessions safe from a vengeful older sibling -and to maintain what sanity he did have- he'd quickly readied his bike and left without so much a goodbye to his father; not that he would have paid attention to his absence anyway.

Drawing in a deep breath, Tatsuha scanned the vacant street, searching for any signs of another car or truck in hopes to ask for a ride into the city, but not finding one, he began to walk, reluctantly leaving his motorcycle behind. He would have preferred to push it all the way to Tokyo, but with the combination of impending weather conditions and the fact that his only means of transportation weighed a good amount despite its petite frame and build, he didn't have a choice and would have to come back for it later. He buried his hands deeper into his coat and slouched his shoulders, trekking at a normal pace and became so consumed in his thoughts that he didn't see the crimson red Mercedes Benz approaching until the squeal of tires nearly deafened him as it stopped.

"Well, well, what do we have here? Hitch-hiking again, Tatsuha-kun?" a feminine voice questioned him, and the dark haired youth lifted his head to stare at his own reflection in a pair of tinted sunglasses clinging to a face surrounded by shimmering chestnut hair. Tatsuha shrugged his shoulders and sighed exasperatingly before speaking to his sister, the black beret she wore slipping a little to the side.

"Anou...you know me," he replied, smirking slightly as he took a step back, expecting her to get out of her car and lecture him about leaving home without permission, but she didn't.

Instead, she merely smiled at him.

"So you think. Now get in, and I will take you wherever it is you are intending to go because I do not need you sick from walking in the rain," she instructed, leaning easily into the leather-encased seat of the interior while she examined him from beneath her shades.

"But it's not-" A large drop of water landed on the edge of his nose and rolled to fall on the ground. "-raining."

"Right…are you getting in or do you want me to leave you?" Tatsuha contemplated on listening to his sister but wasn't sure of what to make of the circumstances; she wouldn't usually go out of her way to help him, and this wasn't any different.

"I'm not sure. Are you stalking me, Mika-chan?" There was a sharp laugh.

"I have much better things to do than stalk you, Tatsuha-kun. What's it going to be? It looks dreadfully wet out there." In the past few minutes they had been talking, the sky had torn itself open, drenching the earth, along with Tatsuha, in a thick sheet of water.

"Daijoubu, Mika-chan…where are you willing to take me?" he asked, striding quickly over to the other side of the car with his long legs. Once inside, his sister hit the gas and sped off, leaving dark streaks along the asphalt.

"NG-Records…Tohma needed something," she replied nonchalantly, brushing her hair out of her view as she relaxed into the seat and clenched the steering wheel in a loose grip with one hand. Tatsuha tried not to move, afraid to get anything of Mika's soaked with the liquid dripping off of him for fear of her wrath; she could be as dangerous as Eiri if she wanted to.

"Nani? Then what are you doing out here? Kyoto is a little far from home, don't you think?" Mika tossed her head.

"Something told me you would need help. Just be appreciative, Tatsuha." The youth slumped into the seat, lowering his head to hide the pout working onto his countenance. He prayed that by the time they did reach NG-Records that it had stopped raining long enough for him to reach his older brother's house by foot; it didn't take long to walk there, but he could never be too cautious about things. It was an early lesson he had learned despite reluctance.

"Sure," he mumbled, glancing out the window at the scenery rapidly passing by in a blur. Tatsuha felt foolishly young sitting next to his sister, and even when he was around those the same age as he, he still sensed the same feeling. Numerous people had told him that he looked and acted older than his sixteen years of experience, but he had never believed them; the only thing that actually appeared adult was his sexuality.

He would never understand any of it.

"Get out," his sister ordered, startling him from thoughts of random nothingness.

"Nani?"

"I said get out. I'm not waiting an eternity for you to wake up, Tatsuha." He shook his head and blinked even as he stared up at the skyscraping NG-Records building. He couldn't even remember them ever actually going through all the traffic Tokyo offered to get here.

"Gomen ne, Mika-chan. Arigato-" Mika gave him a push to open the door and grimaced at the moisture clinging to her hand from his jacket.

"Don't start...now go and give this to Tohma for me before you go to Eiri-san's." She handed him a plastic case -obviously full of CDs- and leaned over him to open the door.

"How did you-" Tatsuha suddenly found himself standing outside, a subsequent drizzle pattering softly around him instead of the thick downpour.

"My secret...now go before you get sick!" she commanded softly, smiling at him before rolling up the tinted window and driving forward, sloshing water back onto his shoes and jeans. Tatsuha frowned, trying his best to wipe off the excess fluid before jogging into the nearest entrance, partially expecting to be hassled by a security guard for an I.D. by the time he made it inside. No one emerged out of the shadows to throw him back out into the weather, and he sighed, looking around to familiarize himself with the part of NG-Records he was in so he could quickly make a stop at his brother-in-law's office and then head to Eiri's apartment. He wasn't as quick to learn places like most of his family -and it had been quite a while since he'd been here- but he would eventually find where he was going, even if he had to ask someone. Tatsuha turned down a corridor, and running into a bunch of vending machines, spun around and went the other direction, peering closely at the signs and tags stuck to several doors.

The entire interior looked the same!

"Naa, matte! Matte!" a masculine, though childish, voice cried from behind, and Tatsuha unexpectedly found himself lying on the floor, a body clinging to him and a face pressed into his shoulder.

"Nani? Doushite-" Large blue eyes shining with hidden knowledge smiled at him as they peered at him from beneath a red sweatband pushing back ragged brown hair, and Tatsuha realized that his heart was pounding in his throat.

"Gomen nasai, Na No Da! Ohayo gozaimasu! Sakuma Ryuichi desu!" His ears rang with the sound -the name constantly repeating throughout his mind as if it were a sacred chant- and Tatsuha felt his head hit the linoleum before he lost consciousness.

TBC-